Free To Bear an Iron Key by Jackie Morse Kessler

Daughter. Not mine.”
    Bromwyn stiffened.
    “So you thought I had no idea, is that it? You thought you could just leave that part out of the problem, did you?” Jessamin laughed, and her eyes shone darkly. “Your grandmother spoke of it to me, before she set off to Mooreston this morning. Your test is upon you. You must fend for yourself, Daughter.”
    “That is just stupid,” Bromwyn growled. “It was not even I who stole the Key!”
    “No matter. Your test has come.”
    “Why? It makes no sense!”
    Jessamin watched her for a moment, seemed to weigh something in her mind before she began to shuffle her cards.
    “It does,” she replied softly. “Eighteen years ago, I was the Guardian during Midsummer. I was tested. And I failed.”
    “You … ” Bromwyn closed her mouth, uncertain of what to say.
    “Failed. Only your grandmother’s quick thinking kept the fey from overrunning the village. And I … ” Jessamin glanced down at her hands, which were trembling. She set down her cards in a neat pile, then folded her hands across her lap. “And I lost my magic.”
    “Mother,” Bromwyn said softly, her voice more tender than it had been in a long, long time. “Please tell me—what happened?”
    Jessamin lifted her chin. “I failed, and your grandmother tricked the fey and so kept them in line. That is all you need to know.”
    Neither mother nor daughter said anything for a long moment. As the silence grew, Bromwyn felt sorry for Jessamin, for the girl her mother had once been and the woman she had never become. Jessamin had lost her magic, and too few years later, she had lost her husband.
    The very least Bromwyn could do was make sure she did not lose her dignity as well. So Bromwyn bowed her head and murmured her apology for causing such distress.
    Hasty words, she thought as she turned away. Again, I spoke hasty words.
    Lately, it seemed all she did was shout or want to shout at her mother. Perhaps her curse would come again. Perhaps it already had, and that was why her test was upon her now, at the worst possible time she could imagine.
    It is so unfair, she thought bitterly. But as she was realizing more and more, even when things were unfair, life continued on. Nature had other concerns than the complaints of one witch.
    She was halfway out the door before her mother cleared her throat and spoke.
    “Your grandmother mentioned that you should teach your friend what you can about the fey. Take my books and help him study. I am certain that with you by his side, your friend will do quite well.”
    Bromwyn turned to face her mother, dipping her head in acknowledgement of Jessamin’s offer. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. The books wouldn’t solve their problems, but they would at least be helpful—a handful of them would provide Rusty with the primer he needed to handle himself around the fey.
    “And Daughter? You will do better at your test than I.”
    Her voice a strangled whisper, Bromwyn said, “How can you know?”
    Jessamin smiled, and her entire face softened as her eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “Because you are my daughter, and I know what you are capable of. My girl, you can do marvelous things. Believe in yourself, for I believe in you.”
    Then Bromwyn forgot about being sixteen and almost married, and she ran to her mother’s side and bent down to hug her tightly, as if that simple act of love could banish all her fears. When Jessamin hugged her just as tightly, everything was right with the world.
    Then the moment passed, and the two broke away.
    “Go, take what you need,” her mother said. “And take my blessing. And know that I love you.” Then she arched an eyebrow. “And know that it would not kill you to wash your feet before tonight.”
    Bromwyn blushed and grinned in equal parts as she strode over to the bookshelf. She rummaged for books about the fey—legend and lore, true accounts and mysteries, poems and songs. As she gathered dusty tomes, she decided right then